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MILA ILORIA
BREATHE

I seek the air to truly live.
There is a heaviness from a world that forgot how to breathe.
In dreams, I wander through locked rooms and endless labyrinths,
searching for the window that opens to the sky.
Sometimes I wonder:
Where are those who still hear the silence between the notes?
Yet the air, the true air, is not outside.
It is born the moment I trust the flight inside me.
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